


Think of my soul

by Merenwen76



Series: Cradle of Love - Prompts and Gifts [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Don't Like Don't Read, Kissing, M/M, Mind Reading, Office Blow Jobs, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23449774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merenwen76/pseuds/Merenwen76
Summary: Written for the 2020 Spring Fling ChallengeBased  on the prompt: One can read the thoughts of the other
Relationships: Dean Smith/Sam Wesson
Series: Cradle of Love - Prompts and Gifts [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703056
Comments: 6
Kudos: 64





	Think of my soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackrabbit42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrabbit42/gifts).



> This is my Gift for Blackrabbit42  
> Thank you for this wonderful prompt
> 
> Beta: As always the amazing Jerzcaligrl and thank you firesign10 for your support.

It just wasn't Sam's day. 

There are these days when you know in the morning,  _ no _ , it's not gonna be.

And you get up anyway.

Take a shower in too cold water, burn the toast. Hey, the milk in the fridge isn't sour, hallelujah, but you forgot to buy the coffee. Damn it.

It was obvious that Sam was late for the bus, expected to run out of the house and it was obvious that of course he would stumble over his sneakers and crash into the asphalt like a falling mahogany tree. 

"Ouch."

His head is pounding and his shirt is ripped open.

Sam thinks for a moment about just sitting down.

Here, on this piece of earth. Just become one with the asphalt and nobody would notice. 

He looks down at the ugly yellow shirt he hates so much, the horrible khaki pants he hates too and the laptop bag. Which is actually quite cool, but he hates it at the moment anyway just on principle.

And then sanity wins and he gets up, moans, goes back into the house and puts on another ugly yellow shirt. 

When he enters the building of Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., his headache gets worse. 

It's like a dull throb behind his temples.

He takes the elevator to the tech service room. Halfway down, the elevator stops and when the doors open, Sam takes a short breath.

Three people get on the elevator among them, Dean Smith. 

Charismatic and ambitious, Dean has everything Sam doesn't. He is single-minded and organized. His body is a pure health stamp. And those lips...

_ „I could kill for a scrambled egg with bacon.“ _

"Excuse me?"

Sam looks at the man next to him in bewilderment but the guy only looks at him questioningly. 

Dean Smith does not even turn to him. He is too busy with his Blackberry. 

Is it crazy that Sam could watch him for hours and hours, touching this little phone with his fingers? That he wished that these fingers would wander over his body instead

_ „This shirt makes me look like a penguin at a bridal shower.“ _

Sam laughs for a second, the man on the other side of him steps away from him.

"Are you all right?" the man asks him.

Crazy - the voice doesn't match the one he just heard, but then who said it?

Next to him is just Martha from legal, and 

Dean -I want to throw a penny at your ass and watch it bounce off - Smith.

Irritated, Sam looks around.

Then they reach the fourth floor and Martha gets out.

"Have a nice day, Dean," calls Martha over her shoulder, and when Dean calls back "You too Martha", Sam stares at him in disbelief. That voice, that deep,  _ call me daddy _ voice he hears, that's Dean's inside Sam's head.

But how can it be? 

The elevator stops on his floor and Sam walks past Dean to the exit.

Before the doors even close, he unmistakably hears Dean's voice again.

_ „At least I don't have to walk around in that ugly yellow shirt.“ _

Sam turns to him, slightly annoyed.

"I don't like them either, dude, they tell me to wear it."

Dean just stares at him with big eyes.

"I didn't say anything!"

Sam stares at the closed elevator door for a long time.

  
  
  
  


Sam's confused.

Over and over again, he re-enacts the scene in the elevator. Is Dean pulling a prank on him? But he heard the words loud and clear.

Can he read minds? 

He tries to read Ian and Roger's mind, but as much as he concentrates, nothing happens. 

And maybe that's good, because Ian can be a little sketchy sometimes.

That leaves him only one choice.

He grabs his laptop and his badge and heads up to Dean's floor.

He knocks on Dean's door and waits for him to invite him in.

"Come in."

"Mr. Smith, hi, my name is Sam Wesson and I am here to ..to resolve some network issues and install some new hardware.“

He looks at Dean expectantly.

Dean just nods and replies, "Of course. Go for it."

Sam focuses on Dean, but nothing happens.

And just as Sam, disappointed, puts his bag down and goes over to Dean's desk, it happens again.

_ „I have no fucking idea what you're talking about, Sasquatch.“ _

Big eyes staring at Dean.

Oh. My. God.

Sam really can read  _ Deans`s  _ mind.

He can barely contain a smile.

Okay, Sam thinks. It's got to be good for something.

Maybe I can get a better job, more money, or..

_ „I would prefer you to install your own hardware deep inside me.“ _

"Fuck, what?" Sam's voice is at least an octave too high.

"What?" Dean looks at him in surprise.

Sam massages his neck in embarrassment. 

"Nothing, I just, uh, was surprised by the equipment on your computer for a second." 

_ „Wait till you see my equipment.“  _

Sam's cheeks are red and light sweat beads on his forehead.

His cock is too hard to go unnoticed.

All or nothing. 

He circles Dean's desk and kneels down in front of his chair. Dean rolls back a little to make room for him. But instead of turning to the computer, Sam turns directly to Dean and looks up into those beautiful deep eyes.

"What do you want, tell me."

Dean's eyes become wide, he stares alternately in Sam's eyes and at his mouth.

Not a word leaves his lips, but Dean's words are loud and clear in his head.

_ "Blow me." _

And Sam obeys. Lowers his eyes, away from Dean's face but straight onto the promising bump in Dean's pants.

His hands skillfully undo Dean's belt and his first buttons.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"That which you desire."

Dean bites his lower lip and lets Sam open his pants further.

Sam opens Dean's legs and slides closer to him. Slowly he lets his hand slide into Dean's open trousers and embraces his hard cock. With the other hand, he pulls Dean's briefs down and massages his balls. He strokes Dean's cock, first with his whole hand, then only with two fingers directly under his head. He watches Dean's reactions closely, listens deep inside of Dean. Harder, slower, with more pressure, everything Dean thinks, Sam puts into action. 

_ „Open your mouth. I can't take it anymore." _

Hazel eyes look almost shyly at Dean. Then Sam opens his lips and lets his tongue slide over Dean's cock, licking over the crown, more pressure just underneath, and then he slides the shaft, leaving a wet trace.

_ „Fuck _ !“ thinks Dean. 

„Fuck“, he says and Sam's heart beats faster.

He directs Dean's excited cock back to his mouth, opening wide, and lets it slide over his tongue and down his throat.

Dean's cock lies thick and fat on his tongue, the tip of it bumps against his throat, and it's good that way because he doesn't just hear Dean's thoughts, he feels them. Feel how much Dean gets excited when Sam moves his head slowly up and down, sinks his nose into Dean's short pubic hair, and swallows around his cock.

Dean's hands glide over Sam's hair, grasping behind Sam's head so that his eyes can't take his view. 

_ „Yeah, that's it, oh fuck, that's it.“ _

Sam lets himself be steered by Dean's hands, faster, deeper, he moans, the vibrations make Dean almost go crazy. 

_ „Sam. Oh, God, Sammy.“ _

Sam comes out of the rhythm, Dean's words release something in him that he cannot grasp, familiarity, connection, love ?

But he shakes the thought aside, hollows his cheeks, sucks and licks his tip until he feels Dean's thumb on his mouth.

"I.. wait,.. I'm coming."

" _ Let me come inside your mouth." _

With short licks of his tongue he tortures the red, shiny tip of Dean's cock before he pushes it deep into his throat again. Dean can no longer hold on to himself. Sam feels the bitter, salty load running down his throat, filling his mouth, and dripping over his lips.

Sam sinks back down to his thighs while Dean slowly gets his breath back and he licks his lips with pleasure.

"I hope you were pleased with our service."

"I think I'll leave a good review."

"Satisfied customers are my goal."

"Not quite yet."

"What do you mean?"

Dean pulls Sam up to him so that he's right in front of him.

Sam's erection is hard to miss, the bulge in his pants is big.

" _ I can't wait to taste your cock." _

How could Sam say no to that wish?

Quickly he opens his pants and pulls out his hard cock. Bringing it without much pause directly to Dean's wonderful lips and spreading the precome on it.

"Open up."

Dean sticks out his tongue, lets Sam slide his dick over it.

_ „Fuck my mouth, Sam. _

_ I need it, don't hold back, I need to feel you, Sammy. I need you…“ _

And Sam is giving it to him.

Feeling a desperation inside of him, like he's trying to get at Dean with every jab into his mouth. 

Like he has to destroy a surface that's glass all around him. That's holding him down, holding him tight. Saliva runs down Dean's chin, but Sam senses Dean, senses he's not hurting him. That Dean's asking for the same thing, to get closer to him. Sam's orgasm comes hard and sudden. Dean holds still, takes everything Sam gives him. Sam only pulls his cock out when he can't stand it anymore, when he becomes too sensitive.

He lets himself fall against the desk, his cock hanging wet and soft from his trousers. His thoughts are so confused. 

Who, where, what, it all suddenly makes no sense.

He looks at Dean, who gets up and carefully puts Sam's cock back into his pants. Dean strokes his hands over Sam's chest, his neck, covering his face.

"Who are you?" Dean asks.

"I don't know." Sam answers. 

Their eyes find each other and Sam, he sees, he senses, he feels.

He opens his mind until their existence is reduced to a word.

A word he doesn't understand, that he doesn't need to understand, but that he needs to pronounce.

He kisses Dean tenderly on the mouth and his lips whisper against Dean's:

"Poughkeepsie."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
